


Nightmare On Neibolt Street

by 80svelvet



Category: A Nightmare on Elm Street (Movies 1984-1994), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alot of Blood, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Horror, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Nightmare on Elm Street AU, Nightmares, so it's been a while since georgie died, they are about 16 in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29252598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/80svelvet/pseuds/80svelvet
Summary: The school counsellor had suggested Bill should keep a dream journal, to give him a fun hobby for the summer. He could never have imagined the type of stories the boy had written in those months, stories of fire, of grief, of shame, and the cold metal of a familiar gloved hand.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, will add more as the storie goes on
Kudos: 2





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I recently watched noes 2 and jesse's gay subtext reminded me alot of how we see pennywise messing with richie in chapter two,,, so naturally i had to write a whole story about it.

Freezing cold concrete was the first thing Bill Denbrough felt when he awoke. His half naked body was laying in the middle of a familiar street, his front door visible from where he sat. His head was pounding as he attempted to crawn out of the fetal position he found himself in, he got on his hands and knees, suddenly feeling like the world was slanted sideways when he struggled to get up without sliding the opposite direction from the one he intended to go towards. Gripping the floor like he was climbing a mountain, his feet weighing a thousand pounds, the young boy managed to get up on his feet. The floor rotated back into place once he did, he wondered if it was even tilted in the first place.

The fog that seemed to come out either the sewers or the floor itself combined with his Bill’s disassociated, blurry vision added to his confusion. The white houses repeated themselves into infinity on the seemingly never-ending street, but a flash of yellow stood out against the muted colors of the simple, typical neighbourhood.

With broad steps, almost unnatural in the way the moved both faster and slower than his surroundings, like he was inside of a car, going faster than any human could, on some type of high-speed chase. The small yellow object was closer, Bill could now make out the shape of a tiny, childlike body standing near a specific house, one colored in much darker colors than any other, the housed seemed like it was in black and white, blurriness gone as he was suddenly stood in front of it, it was straight out of a 1930s vampire movie he would rent to watch late at night. The roof was rotting, holes caving into the thin layer of protection that coved the inside of mansion, the windows lacked the glass, covered only in light pieces of wood, messily cut, as if they were there for the sole purpose of sticking splinters into the hands of whoever dared to crawl inside. The door suddenly sprung open, the sound booming through the silence he’d grown accustomed to. He thought the housed kind of looked like a face, the door was its mouth, the two windows above were like a pair of sleepy eyes, completed with vines coming down onto the roof of porch, like a funny looking mustache.

A tug on the thin fabric of his pajama pants brought him out of whatever rabbit hole his fuzzy mind was leading him into, practically pulling him into the doorway of the strange house. He turned around to meet a pair of sweet, warm, big brown eyes staring back at him. _Georgie._

He looked different. His face was covered in burns and all types of boil, they were wet like he had been sweating for years, the pus was the worst part, yellow goo drooling out of the red gashes on his little brother’s face. One of the sleeves of his adorable little yellow raincoat was practically empty, an arm clearly missing and a paper boat, _his_ paper boat, peaking out the small pocket on his chest. All he did was _stare_.

All he wanted to do was grab him, he wanted to shake him awake out of whatever _state_ the little boy was in, all dead eyed and lifeless. He wanted to pick him up and run, get him back home, back to safety, back to _him._ But something about this whole thing made his blood freeze, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t talk, he couldn’t even try to stutter out anything to someone he loved so much, all he could do was stand there, like his feet were nailed to the concrete below them.

“Bill.” His heart shriveled up inside his chest, pain trailing down from there onto every single part of his body. “Billy let’s go home.” Georgie’s voice was sweet as always, every single bit of it hitting his ears like a stab into Bill’s frail heart.

He had the sudden urge to run. He took a step back, slowly back away, closer to the house. Georgie’s _remaining_ hand came up from behind his back and Bill hadn’t even realized he was hiding it until then. _Sharp, long, claw-like nails_ stuck into a brown leather glove was now inches away from his face, but the _thing_ seemed to want to play his him a little more before he cut in.

Bill keep walking backwards, keeping his eyes stuck onto the creature before him, terrified that if he looked away for even a second it would somehow move to his side. He couldn’t run yet, he had to make sure it wasn’t _him_ , he had to make sure. The claw came up near the boy’s face and Bill flinched, but never blinked. The gloved hand pulled off the hood of his brother’s raincoat, revealing a gross mix of a bald head, covered in the same burns he’d seen before, and small tuffs of thin brown hair, sticking to the thing’s head like it would to a rotting skull. The thing pulled out a hat, seemingly out of nowhere, and rested it on its won pus covered head. His heart was beating faster than it had ever before, he was convinced he was about to die from it before it could kill him. It walked towards him, reaching his _little_ arms, making them stretch unnaturally, metal dragging against a nearby streetlamp making that _ungodly_ noise, like thousands of nails on a chalkboard at once.

His feet started sinking into the floor, he tried to get out, but it seemed like the concrete has turned into bubble gum like substance, sticking his bare feet down to the ground, and Bill regretted not having ran before. The thing was getting closer, it looked into Bill’s eyes, his own suddenly not the heavenly warm, honey brown Bill had grown to love since the day he was born, but instead a deep blood red. “Georgie” maintained eye contacted and uttered, in a voice so deep it couldn't possibly be his:

“This.” He motioned to his claw “is God.”

**Bill’s vision went white.**

The first thing he felt was the ringing in his ears, reminding him of the sound of the nails, putting it back into his brain. He hurried to sit up, looking around his room, checking if it was real, if it was fuzzy and foggy like the street before. It seemed to be real this time. His body was grimy, covered in a thick layer of sweat, his throat burned, as if he’d been screaming for hours, which he likely had, and he chose to ignore the pool of _pee_ staining the front of his pants.

He opened the first drawer of his bedside table, pulling out his underwear until he got to what he was looking for. He grabbed his lilac, lock and key diary, and started writing, he wrote every detail he managed to remember just like he had every night for the past week since the nightmares started. Nightmares about Georgie, about that face he hadn’t seen in years, and the face of a tall, burnt man, wearing a dark brown hat.


	2. chapter 1- bill has a rough day

The last day of school had crept up on the group pretty fast as the year was horribly mundane, filled with the usual boring classes, nasty cafeteria food and the usual aggressivity from the older kids. The four boys had spent the last few months knee-deep in schoolwork and other extracurriculars as senior year got closer and closer. Unfortunately, this meant that the group had somewhat drifted apart, but Bill had hope that summer would get them to fall right back into their usual dynamic.

Every morning he would get a ride from Richie in his dad’s old beaten up truck and get cramped into the corner in the front seat, surrounded by all the trash and the ever-growing pile of clothes that gathered in between him and the other boy. Usually it was just the two of them, since Eddie absolutely refused to get inside Richie’s walking trash can of a car and Stan already had his own car and didn’t want to bother with Rich’s stupid attempts at jokes at seven in the morning. Bill thought Stan also didn’t want to bother with Bill being a downer so early after waking up, but that wasn’t 100% confirmed so he’d rather keep his mouth shut about it.

The way too cold for the beginning summer wind, typical in Maine but something Bill could never really get used to, came in rather violent gushes, blowing open the curls on the young boy’s head as he sat on his porch. He stared at that same spot at the end of the street that he looked at every morning, expecting the moment that he would see the front of that ugly teal vehicle coming down the road. Its name was Dory, as he was rudely reminded every single time he referred to _her_ as a car. He didn’t get it, he got naming boats, they were expensive and fancy, special even, but cars were just _cars_ , they didn’t need names. 

Finally, after twenty minutes of awkwardly standing there, having watched his father get in his car, start the car, remembering something he had left inside, walking back in the house and then sprinting back inside and driving _much_ too fast out of their driveway, Richie finally decided to show, attempting to park near the grass, probably trying to show off after Bill told him he was horrible at parking outside of parking lots, but ending up almost driving straight into his mother’s favorite lilies.

The boy rushed inside, laying his backpack on his lap before even thinking about speaking a word to his friend and scrambling to put on his seatbelt, genuinely expecting Richie to just start driving wildly the second he sat down.

Hearing the _click_ of his seatbelt, he finally closed his eyes and took a deep breath for the first time since this morning’s pee fiasco.

“Good morning?”

“Good morning Rich.” his brows were furrowed as he handed Bill the flask, he brought for the both of them, filled with black coffee.

“Sleepy?” for s split second Bill made eye contact with the boy, concern obvious in his expression.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Don’t worry.” That seemed to satisfy Richie, he started the car and got out of the driveway.

The car made strange sounds as they went, sounding near to breaking down at the slightest obstacle in their path but Bill trusted Dory to make it at least one month into summer before she finally died on them. Richie swerved across town in his rush to get to school, disregarding just about any traffic law Bill could think of but by now he was disconnected enough from it that he could ignore the huge **DANGER** sign lighting up inside his head.

They pulled into the school parking lot at 8am sharp, Richie slowed down, like he suddenly cared now that hitting a random person’s car would have immediate consequences, like getting his ass beat right in front of the entrance _again._ One time Richie had _coincidentally_ rammed the front of his stupid little truck straight into Henry Bower’s rearview mirror, he swore it wasn’t on purpose and that he was just distracted and sleepy from a night of watching dumb horror movies at Eddie’s but it was purely too _Richie_ to try to fuck with Bowers when he wasn’t looking. It turned out that he was, in fact, looking, just from inside the school, looking out a window. Bowers came storming out, almost climbing straight out of the window if Patrick hadn’t held him back and walked with him outside to _properly_ beat the both of them up.

This time, Tozier managed to carefully thread past the other student’s cars without hitting any of them or knocking against some poor soul who happened to be in his way. Bill knew he had passed his test with flying colors, he got his license right away and didn’t really mention any troubles during the process but as the months went by Richie got worse and worse at driving. Bill guessed he just didn’t care about the law now that he wasn’t getting tested anymore.

As soon as the car was parked the left side door was violently flung open and the boy walked away from the death machine still spewing smoke out into the open, as fast as he could without looking like he was running away from his friend. He waved goodbye and mumbled something about the quarry hang out they planned for that day that he hoped Richie heard from the distance he was standing at. Over the last few weeks, he seemed more and more reluctant to get closed to Bill, he wondered if it had anything to do with things Rich’s _new friends_ said about him, but he never asked.

His new friends were a group of what Bill liked to call _party freak_. The party freaks were losers, they got bullied like any other loser, they got mocked, they got hit but they also had an adventurous side, they smoked in the school, they did all types of _stuff_ Bill didn’t even dare to look at, they made out with anything that moved, they drove around town in that nasty stained white truck, blaring their loud obnoxious music, along with their skunk stench all over the place. Sure, Bill wasn’t a prude, he had gotten drunk before, even smoked a little weed in Stan’s basemen that one time in freshman year, but he was nowhere near being a _party freak._ The name was childish, he was aware of it, but he chose to believe that it came from a place of worry for his friend and not jealousy towards his fun nighttime actives.

His skinny legs went in broad steps across the wide hallway of his school, making his way up onto the stairs rather quickly, not bothering to wait for the bell to ring. Counting doors as he walked past them, he made it to door 11A where his first class would be taking place and he rushed to his seat, the one by the window, first desk in front of the teacher’s. He sat in the stiff wooden chair, immediately dreading the feeling of it against his back, again this poor poor back suffering from scoliosis.

Class went by rather slowly, he struggled to keep his eyes from fluttering shut during any break or dud in the teacher’s monologue, tired from all the dreaming he did. He had slept mostly fine, but his dreams were so vivid and overwhelming that once he was out of bed it was like he hadn’t slept at all that night.

Eventually, the teacher told them to read through some passages in their book and Bill’s sleep deprived brain took that as an opportunity to close his eyes for a few minutes. His neck bend at an awkward, painful angle as he pretended to stare down at the tiny font in front of him, the small of his back aching in its usual way but he didn’t really mind, he just shut his eyes. Black covered his vision and it was almost as if the world around him was put on mute, he focused on his own breath, the way it went deep into his lungs and came out in quiet puffs from his nose, he focused on the way the fabric of his hoodie felt against the cracked, dry skin of his fingertips. Suddenly he felt movement, something moved in front of him, maybe an animal or a small child was getting near, he felt the warmth of a body approaching his. It felt almost like an aura, more of a feeling than a physical touch or something he could observe with his senses, it was all burning red.

Then came the _sound_. That disgusting screech of metal against metal, he could feel it in his bones it was awfully disturbing. The warm red aura moved closer and closer, its edges reaching out to touch his, he could almost see it in third person, he could see the figure approaching his physical self, wrapping around him, as if he was someone else completely. His chest felt tight with the pressure, air filling up his lungs in a panic, as if his body was gearing up for its last breath and the boy squeezed his eyes shut even harder. The weight was building inside his body, he tried to keep it in, pushing himself to not let go, keeping himself from exhaling.

He couldn’t hold it in anymore, his breath falling out of his lips like the gasp of a man coming back to life. His body jerked forward with from the sheer amount of pain lodged in his chest and his eyes opened wide, light finally coming through.

“William? William wake up!”

His vision blurred with the sudden motion of whatever was standing over him, feeling its weight on his shoulders.

“William?”

He shut his eyes and opened them quickly after, afraid to fall back into the state he had found himself in moments before. He was met with his History teacher staring back at him.

Laughter filled his ears and he didn’t need to look around to realize that most of the room was staring right at him.

He managed to mutter an excuse, something about having a headache and needing to close his eyes, avoiding his teacher intensely staring down at him like a hawk. He was just glad the man was nice enough to not give him detention for falling asleep. That was it right? He just fell asleep.

* * *

Every hour of the day seemed three times as long as it normally would as Bill struggled to keep his eyes open, he managed to keep his body from shutting off until he was done for the day and would hopefully manage to stay awake through his meeting with the losers. They had agreed to meet at the quarry that afternoon for a hangout, they planned to play card games, play some truth or dare, maybe drink a little, but Richie had agreed it **was not** party, so Bill trusted him to keep to keep things calm enough.

The plan was that Richie would drive himself and Bill to Eddie’s house, who had left school earlier than the rest of them since his teachers were nice enough not to give afternoon classes in the last day of school, then they would drive to the quarry and Rich would _carefully_ park near there and a bit later Stan would meet them there.

The ride with Richie was as chaotic as always, probably more that he was dragged into the backseat along with all the trash since _Eddie_ liked it better in the front. So did Bill. Why Eddie’s needs were always more important than his he’d never know. They drove up thought the neighborhood, stopping a few houses behind Eddie’s, careful not to set Sonia off to their scent. They waited for Eddie for a few minutes, the silence only filled by a cheery pop song on the radio. The smaller boy came running to their car as if he had escaped prison and they were his getaway drivers, a smile plastered on his freckled face. He struggled with the door, pulling, then pushing it in and up attempting to get it open but eventually Richie just reached his arm out to do it for him.

“Hey guys!” he looked back at the sleepy teen sitting in the backseat and nodded slightly, as if to acknowledge him before slipping into his usual banter with the other boy “Are ya ready to have fun?” he asked, dragging out the last syllable like an excited child.

Almost like a robot programmed to do so, Richie started pocking and probing at him right away, starting with the stupid jokes and the dumb potty humor they were all so accustomed to. Eddie shot him an apologetic look the second Richie turned back around to start the car.

Bill really did love the kid, he had always sort of felt like an older brother to him, despite Eddie being months older than him. He guessed it was the dimples, or the height, or the freckled nose, or the flushed cheeks or generally just his personality but he made Bill feel warm inside. Richie was the complete opposite, he loved him just as much but he was impulsive while Eddie took annoyingly long to make a single decision, Richie was good at social situations, he was tall, he was weird looking, he was handsome enough, he kept people’s attention, while Eddie mostly kept to himself, he stayed in his own bubble and struggled to keep up conversations without mumbling or staring at the ground. But when they were alone it was as if they became the same person for a few minutes, it was incredible.

Richie’s driving was strangely carefully this time around, he wasn’t swerving at turns, actually stopping instead of diving straight into wherever he wanted to turn to. He kept throwing looks at Eddie, probably teasing him about something stupid, Bill's pounding headache making him unable to focus on the conversation for more than a few seconds at a time, hearing only few words at time before staring out the window and zoning out. He didn’t understand why he was feeling like this, sure nightmares could be overwhelming and scary in the moment, but he shouldn’t be feeling like he hadn’t slept at all just because he had a few spooky dreams in the last week.

They arrived to the quarry around 15 minutes later and Bill managed to pull himself out of his little funk for long enough to plonk down on the blanket the other boys had placed while he was busy leaning against a tree, thinking about nothing at all. The poor thing was used for things like these all the time and teen boys aren’t exactly known for their cleanliness so it was absolutely covered in grass stains, bread crumbs and random holes, probably from the rocks they often covered with it, yet Bill still considered it something like an artefact of his childhood, like a physical representation of his middle school nostalgia, he thought of it as one of those things are might look ugly and dirty now but in 20 something years he’d cry at its sight, remembering everything he and his friends did over that aging piece of fabric.

Richie and Eddie seemed brighter than usual, dicking around in their usual way, like they hadn’t in a while, it made Bill happy to see it again after so long, he’d never tell them about that though, didn’t need them getting even more annoying. They got rowdier after they spotted Stan coming over to them, he was running towards them once he realized, his curly hair bouncing around freely. As he got older the more Stan dressed like a grandma, Bill realized, he wore a brown sweater, stripped in all types of different dumb patterns (chevron, diamond shapes, vertical stripes, some sort of basketweave type thing, funny looking swirls and rainbow colored dots, all at once) it was an obnoxious looking thing, matched with dark green pants, too wide for the boy’s slim legs but also way too short for his height, paired with bright orange socks, it was as ugly it was endearing.

“Hey assholes!” the taller teen sat next to him, crossing his legs to avoid taking up most of the blanket with his long limbs.

Richie’s ever-present mocking tone “Stan the Man! I was getting worried you weren’t showing.”

Stan scoffed, replying sarcastically “As if I’d miss another boring meeting with the Loser’s Club. I wouldn’t **dare**.” He rolled his eyes, reaching for the bag of chips they had brought. “No, but seriously, I wouldn’t, I kinda missed you.”

“Aw Stannie you miss us?”

“Shut up Eddie, like you didn’t miss me too.” Eddie chuckled, dimples showing.

“Never said I didn’t.”

They went through the whole bag of chips rather quickly, only lasting about five minutes of mildly aggressive conversation. Stan kept glancing up at him, as if he were checking his emotions as they talked, probably wondering why he was silent.

“Everything okay Billy?” he looked up, finally returning the glace.

“Hm? Yeah m’ fine.”

Not looking convinced Stan pushed again.

“You sure?”

Bill smiled weakly “Yeah, m’ sure.”

Stan raised his eyebrows at him, seeming unconvinced, but he ended up dropping the topic.

“Guys.” Eddie whined “Can we _please_ go into the water already, I’m bored.”

Richie huffed “I don’t really want to.”

Stan landed a slap on Richie’s leg “C’mon it’ll be fun.”

Bill’s eyes darted quickly from person to person, hoping Rich would pull the weight for their team and convince everyone to stay right where they were.

“I don’t know. Just not really feeling it today, sorry.”

Eddie scrunched his nose in disappointment “Fine, me and Stan can just go alone I guess.”

Rich seemed surprised at that turn of events but replied “Sure.” He shifted awkwardly, moving around while sitting “I’ll just stay with Bill, we need to catch up.”

Bill let out a huff through his nose, because Richie could probably not be _less_ interested in what Bill had to say.

“Isn’t that right Bill?” big brown eyes looked over to him expecting a reply.

“Sure.” Bill deadpanned.

Stan chucked, getting up to walk closer to the water. They had stopped jumping off the ledge, he wasn’t exactly sure when that happened, but it seemed to be unsaid rule now that the Losers did not jump from the ledge anymore. Eddie jumped up, wiping dirty off his jeans before running over to Stan, who already had one foot in the water.

Richie and Bill sat in their now usual silence, a smile stuck on the other’s face as he stared at Stan and Eddie messing around with some cool plant they’d spotted.

“Are you actually okay? You seem off.” Surprised by the actual conversation and not just pointless chitchat, he decided to try to talk to him like a person.

“Not really? I guess. Just been having weird dreams, haven't been sleeping well.” Richie moved closer, their legs now touching as the other boy sat with his legs practically spread open.

“Me too.” Their eyes met again, now seemingly both feeling the same type of blue “Is it Georgie again? You had those a lot when it happened. Maybe it’s like, anniversary effect or something.”

“Yes, but also no.”

Richie cocked his head “Explain.”

Bill looked down at his hands, struggling to find the words to explain everything properly “Uh. It starts as him, sometimes it’s him all the way through to the end, but other times it isn’t him at all. It either starts as Georgie or it becomes about this _man._ ”

Rich’s hand grazed his wrist in an attempt to soothe him like he always did when this subject came up. “I keep having dreams about a man too. Always being chased. Or…. Played with.”

Bill didn’t respond, not thinking much of it, everyone had dreams about creepy men once in a while.

“He’s always wearing this fedora, some ugly hat.” He froze in place “And he has this sweater, I think it’s like a Christmas sweater or something, red and green. And he has these like, knife nails-” His stomach churned, and he could almost feel the blood braining out of his face, getting pale and sweaty. He cut Richie off.

“Stop.”

Richie, either genuinely confused or just a great actor, said “What?”

“You read my dream diary, dickhead. That’s not funny.” Rich’s brows furrowed, scrunching up in _fake_ confusion.

“Bill I wouldn’t do that. I’m not that shitty, Jesus.”

It was Bill turn to be confused now.

“But that’s not possible. That’s the man from **my** dream.”

Trying to argue, Rich tightened his grip around the other boy’s wrist “Maybe he’s from both our dreams.”

“Richie that’s nonsense, that can’t happen.”

He let go of his wrist and jumped up from where he was sitting, struggling to keep his balance, like a baby giraffe, with the long limbs and all.

“Well. I’m not lying Bill.”

Richie shruged one last time before walking away, calling out for the other Losers, who, apparently, were still just knee deep into the pond.

Bill’s back hit the blanket with a thud, he stared up at the sky, feeling as if his sleep deprived brain were melting inside his skull. Logically, this made no sense, if this man wasn’t real, where did he come from, he had no memory of ever meeting someone that even looked remotely like that, or someone that wore fedoras, or Christmas sweaters like that, but if this _thing_ was just a figment of his imagination, how the _hell_ did Richie dream about him too.

He decided to just not think about it that much, he rushed to take off his sneakers and run into the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a little too much like the movie, but do not worry, next chapter is really changing things up


End file.
